


eyes wide open

by thewayofthetrashcompactor (BriarLily)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Jedi Rey, Lab Partners, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Senator Kylo Ren, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-06-30 09:02:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15748533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BriarLily/pseuds/thewayofthetrashcompactor
Summary: “And I’d choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I’d find you and I’d choose you.”― Kiersten White, The Chaos of StarsShort fics filling prompts and for Reylo AU WeekDay 1: Modern AU (Lab partners)Day 2: Historical AU (Sick fic and a spy)Day 3: Canon Divergent AU (Senator/Jedi)Day 4: Fantasy AU (Vampires)Day 5: Cyberpunk





	1. Modern

Rey stood over the corpse with a knife held tight in her hand. 

“I’m not doing it,” Kylo said again, and she scowled, grip tightening. 

“We’re _partners_ ,” she snapped. “Not ‘one person does the work while the other two watch’-ers.”

“I’m not just going to watch. I’m taking notes.” He brandished a notebook and pen. “And I can’t do that if my hands are covered in --” He cast a slightly ill look at the fetal pig lying belly up on the table between them. “--viscera.”

“Weren’t you in--?” she started, then stopped when his eyes met hers and hardened. He’d mentioned very briefly, in passing, that he’d served overseas somewhere in the time before he’d decided to come back to school for a degree, but that clearly wasn’t something he wanted to discuss. She swiftly changed tactics. “You bled all over yourself in class a couple weeks ago when you fell asleep and hit your nose on the desk and you didn’t even _notice_. You can’t tell me you’re squeamish.”

“I don’t have a problem with blood,” he said dismissively. “I’m opposed to sticking my hand in anything...squishy.”

She eyed him with a straight face and crossed her arms. “Squishy.”

“Yes.” He had the decency to look at least a little embarrassed, ears turning pink where they poked through his dark hair, but still resolutely clutched his notebook. 

She glanced over at the third of their trio, Kylo’s asshole friend who had yet to do anything other than critique so far this semester. “I don’t suppose you plan on getting involved.”

Hux raised a single, perfectly groomed brow. “You two seem to have it handled.”

Her teeth ground together. “You’d think a pre-med student might find this a little bit relevant.”

“Actually, I don’t intend to operate on any pigs with my degree. You’re welcome to the experience.”

She reminded herself yet again that punching her labmates would probably hurt her grade in the class. “Fine. Fine!” She pointed at Kylo with the knife. “But your notes better be fucking perfect.”

“They’ll be neater than yours,” he said.

She paused from where she was bending over the table and looked pointedly at him. “Do you really want to be insulting the person holding a knife here?”

His eyebrows shot up, and there was just enough fear on his face to give her a thrill of satisfaction. “Fair enough,” he muttered, and set to starting his notes, writing flowing in a flawless script from his pen.

She started the first incision, Kylo reading out the guidelines as she went. Carefully, she slit the stomach open and pulled the skin back. She stood, letting out the breath she’d been holding, and gestured at the revealed organs. “Get to drawing, writer boy,” she said to Kylo.

Reluctantly, he stood and leaned over, face wrinkled in disgust. “I still don’t understand why I have to take this class,” he mumbled as he sketched out the splayed open pig.

“Really? You don’t understand why biology and chemistry might be related?” she said.

He glanced up at her, cheeks pink again. “You’re one to talk. You’re here _willingly_.”

She shrugged. “It’s part of what I want to do. Are you done?”

He looked at her disdainfully. “I thought you wanted these to be ‘fucking perfect’.”

She rolled her eyes. “Perfect for a lab, not for something we’re sending to the art department.”

He didn’t answer, scribbling a few more lines. Rey thought she saw him do some honest-to-God _shading_ before he sat down again and gestured for her to have at it. She took up her knife again and started to pull things apart. 

Over the next couple hours, Kylo turned out to be surprisingly helpful, reading the instructions almost as soon as she needed them and looking things up when she had questions. When her hair started falling out of her bun and no amount of blowing got it to tuck back into place, he walked around behind her and pushed it behind her ear. She almost jumped when she felt his hands on her head. 

“Is this okay?” he asked as he paused in pulling her hair back again.

She nodded. “Yeah.”

With surprisingly nimble fingers, he combed her hair back into the buns she’d had it in at the start of this very long day, before she’d sweated her way across campus and through lab. She almost apologized for how long it had been since she’d washed it, but all too soon he took her hair tie to pull everything back into one of her buns. He somehow achieved that balance of not too tight but not too loose that she never got right, then walked back and sat with his notebook again, like his hands in her hair hadn’t been the best thing she’d felt all day.

When the TA called for the end of the lab, she’d managed to get through everything they needed to. The three of them took photos of Kylo’s notes and promised to write their section of the report over the next week.

-

Rey looked from the clock at the corner of her laptop and back to her email. Refreshing it produced no changes. Grumbling, she pulled her phone out and sent a message to Kylo. Within a minute, it started ringing.

She stared at it for a second and then answered. “...Hello?”

“Was that you trying to communicate? Because none of those were words.”

At least that explained him calling. Who even did that anymore? “It’s texting, Kylo. You’re not even thirty yet, it’s not that complicated.”

His huff was a rush of static on the other side. “I understand _texting_. What I don’t understand is random strings of letters. Why can’t you just use English?”

“It is English,” she said, continuing before he could interrupt. “And that’s not the point. We need to turn in our final report tomorrow and your dickhead friend hasn’t started his part yet. Which we both need to be able to do ours.”

“I know. He’s not my friend.” He sounded almost as pissed off as she felt.

“That’s great, but it still doesn’t get this done. And I can barely read your notes. What even is this?” she asked, squinting in frustration again at his tightly scrawled writing. 

“Did you seriously never learn cursive? Nevermind, don’t answer that.” She restrained herself from snapping at him, barely. “Meet me at the library in twenty minutes. We can work on this together.”

“Fine. See you there.” She snapped her laptop closed, packed it with her notes, and strode out of the dorm.

Kylo was waiting for her at an empty table when she got to the library, notes and laptop spread around him. 

“No word from the dickhead?” she asked as she sat down.

“None,” he said tightly. “I’m typing my notes up in the doc right now. If you start at the procedure, I’ll start on the questions and we can work through the analysis together.”

She nodded, surprised but pleased that he was actually planning on doing this, and pulled her laptop out. 

Several hours later, when the words were starting to blur together on her screen, and her stomach was telling her that she’d probably missed a meal somewhere, they finished. Kylo leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hand over his face. 

“I think that’s it,” he said. “I’ll send it to the printer, and I can drop it off at the professor’s office after class tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.” They looked at each other across the table, and she suddenly realized that with their final report done, they wouldn’t be seeing each other around any more. At most, they might pass each other on campus. That thought didn’t make her as excited as she’d thought it would. 

“You have my number,” she blurted out, half-wondering if the sleep-deprivation had finally done her in. “You know. If you want to text. Or call, or something.”

Kylo looked confused. “Yeah, I can let you know that I’ve turned it in.”

“No, I mean --” She huffed. “Like after tomorrow. If you wanted.”

Understanding dawned slowly across his face, though he remained cautious. “Maybe you can teach me about texting?” he suggested. “I hear it’s the new calling.”

She laughed. “I could try.”

He smiled at her, almost shyly, which was an unreasonably endearing expression coming from that big of a man. She didn’t think she’d seen him do that before. “Did you maybe want to -- get something to eat? There’s probably --” He looked at his watch (an actual watch, because of course he would) and winced. “There’s a pizza place that’ll still be open. We could get them to deliver here.”

She smiled back. “Pizza sounds great.”


	2. Historical

Rey pounded on the door, trying to balance a tray in her other hand. 

“Go away!” Ren shouted hoarsely from the other side. She tried the handle. Locked.

Sighing, she set the tray down on the floor and pulled a thin piece of metal out of her bun. She fiddled with the doorknob, and within a few seconds, it clicked satisfactorily. She tucked the pick away again, picked up the tray, and let herself in.

Kylo's bleary eyes fixed on her as she walked through the door. “I thought I locked that,” he croaked.

“Must have forgotten,” she assured him, striding over to his bed and setting the tray down on the table next to it before she could drop it.

“You can take that back,” he said, rolling into his side away from her. “I don't need it.”

She crossed her arms. “You haven't eaten in two days. I don't know how you expect to get out of that bed again if you don't eat something. You have a perfectly good meal here, and you are not letting it go to waste.” 

She couldn’t really say why she was bothering. It would save her a lot of trouble if he'd just waste away. Maybe it was the thought that she'd have to tell his mother. Or maybe, pathetic as he was, she really did feel sorry for him. There were times when she could almost forget that he was working for the side she'd pledged to fight against.

He peered at her over his shoulder. “You're awfully pushy for a maid.”

“I simply don't want to have to deal with your infected corpse when you die out of sheer stubbornness.”

He shuddered. “That is…vivid.” With a groan of effort, he turned back onto his other side and snatched a slice of toast from the tray. He ripped a bite out of the corner and swallowed. “Happy?”

“Thrilled.” She turned to leave again, leaving the tray behind. 

“Wait.” She turned to look at him over her shoulder, wondering what he could want now. He looked torn, like he regretted saying anything. 

“Did you need something?” 

“I -- Could you stay? For a short while.” His voice broke over the words, and he winced, his already flushed face growing even darker.

Brow furrowed, she nonetheless stepped around his bed and pulled out the chair from his desk to sit. She crossed her legs then uncrossed them, her eyes wandering around the room as she fiddled with her apron. 

“Should I --?” She trailed off, unsure of what to suggest.

He didn’t answer, only pulled the blankets higher around him, curling his long body into a sizeable lump under the covers. She wondered if he was even in his right mind, or if he’d remember this once he recovered.

She took to examining the room again. She wasn't sure what was in the assortment of bottles that had been left on his dresser, and was even less sure that he'd drunk from any of them. The remains of one were smashed at the base of the wall across from his bed, from when he'd demonstrated his displeasure with the doctor being called. Its remnants had soaked into the floor and the rug, and the strong chemical smell along with the stuffiness of the room and the general odor of sickness was enough to make her heady. 

Most of the room was in disarray after he’d shut himself in the past couple days. Clothes hung from odd places, and his usually obsessively organized papers were scattered across his desk. She glanced across them, but saw nothing new. There were a few correspondences with Snoke and Hux, terse and with barely-veiled insults, further evidence of the degrading relationship she’d noted for a while now. Glancing back at the bed, she wondered if she could risk digging further to see if there were any specifics she could pass on. Kylo’s chest rose and fell at a pace too quick to be even the fitful sleep he’d been getting lately, and the slight wheeze of air through his lungs could be heard from across the room. Slowly, she reached out and flicked the top sheet to the side to see what was beneath. 

“I know, you know?” Kylo’s voice came from across the room, half-muffled, and she froze. 

“Know what?” she asked carefully, barely daring to breathe.

“That you're working for my mother.”

Her heart stopped, but she forced herself to keep her voice even. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

He laughed, which quickly turned into a cough. She half-rose to help him, but he waved her off. “I figured out you were spying for her within a week of you getting here. You don't need to pretend. She did a nice job, getting someone fresh off the boat, accent pristine, but --” He waved a hand limply.

“Why haven’t you gotten rid of me then?” she asked.

He snorted. “She’d just send someone else. Better to have someone I knew of and to let her believe she had the upper hand.”

Anger flashed through her. “If you knew, one would think you'd do a better job of keeping your letters private. Spying on you was hardly a challenge.”

He grunted, but didn't say anything else. Rey slowly thought through what he'd told her. “If you knew -- you let the raid on the supply shipment happen. You knew I would have seen those letters and understood.” The only reply was the rustle of his covers.

She stood and walked over to the bed, needing to see his face. It was half buried in his pillow, half covered in blankets, and looked pale and drawn. He wouldn't meet her eyes. 

“Kylo,” she said softly. More silence.

She sighed, turning to leave again. She should send a message to Leia at the very least. His hand shot out from under the blankets with a speed faster than she would have expected in his state. “Please,” he said quietly. “Just a little longer.”

There were plenty of reasons why she shouldn’t, but she found herself leaning on the edge of the bed instead, looking down at the scourge of the colonies laid low. His hand was far too hot around hers, nearly burning, but she didn’t pull away. “Just for a little,” she said.

He nodded and relaxed into the mattress. His eyelids started to droop, exhaustion finally claiming him again. Before she could think better of it, she reached out with her other hand and pushed back the sweaty black hair clinging to his forehead. Half-asleep, he leaned into the touch, sighing. His skin was even hotter here, and her hand involuntarily squeezed around his. 

“Only a little while,” she said quietly. 


	3. Canon Divergence

Senator Amidala paced back and forth in his office as Rey watched, muttering under his breath and picking up steam as he went. She didn't know exactly what had set him off this time, besides more arguments over the latest budget, but she caught the names of several prominent senators mentioned with none too complimentary epithets. At least his office hadn't suffered yet; she didn't feel like trying to explain to maintenance that their least favorite senator needed something repaired again.

“Short-sighted, greedy, I'd say Hutt spawn if that wasn't an insult to the Hutts,” he ranted. His hands waved through the air before him, occasionally indicating exactly what he felt his colleagues deserved. One ran through his hair as he growled in frustration, further mussing the style he'd carefully set in place that morning. His robes swished around his legs as he strode back and forth, the heavy layers of fabric creating a tangible breeze every time another few steps brought him to the edge of the room again. She knew he chose his clothes carefully, respecting the traditions of his predecessors, but still edging enough into the new to keep the older senators irritated.

Today’s ensemble featured full length robes that split at the top and bottom, revealing very closely tailored pants beneath and a thin sliver of pale skin above, dipping down his chest and lower. He filled out the clothes as well as he always did, and Rey wondered idly if the seamstress he used had to order in more fabric for him. Her own somber tan robes didn’t compare. He’d offered to provide her with replacements before, something more suited to the capital, but she’d refused him every time. 

It was one of the unexpected perks of this job, horrifying her charge. Whether it was with her table manners, ignorance of galactic trade, or insisting on carrying out the ascetic Jedi traditions, even the ones she’d found in history books that Master Luke would never have insisted on, she never failed to get some amusement over making the senator grind his teeth. She had to find some pleasure out of being assigned his watcher. It probably wasn’t the most Jedi-like impulse, like how she couldn’t help watching every time Kylo stood tall and proud to perform before the Senate, but she’d always been a difficult student anyway. Her eyes tracked Kylo as his pace grew rapid, lingering on where his hair curled over his collar and the animated gestures of his large hands. 

“What do you think?” he asked, stopping and turning toward her, and she blinked, registering by the sudden silence that he must be expecting an answer.

“About what, Senator?” she said, gathering herself.

He waved his hands impatiently. “About the plan.”

“The plan?”

“Yes! To get the votes we need.”

She cocked her head. “What plan is that?”

“Next session, when I’m called up for my speech, you and I mindtrick the lot of them.”

She nearly rolled her eyes. Of course, that plan. He was reluctant to use the Force most of the time for reasons that had never fully been explained to her, something to do with family history, but every once in a while he decided that overthrowing the Senate was the only reasonable solution. 

“It shouldn’t be hard,” he continued, stopping his pacing to walk closer to her. “They’re all weak-willed, mindless fools anyway. There won’t be much to trick. A quick, very persuasive speech, a touch of the Force, and we save the Republic from financial ruin.”

“I think that’s against the Jedi code,” she said, smiling.

He waved a hand dismissively. “Old laws work by a bunch of long dead masters. Who really cares about those nowadays?”

“The Jedi, mostly,” she said, snorting.

He smirked. “What they don't know won't hurt them.”

“I am a Jedi,” she pointed out, with a sight pang she didn't want to examine.

He hummed. “And you’re devoted to that, aren’t you?” He was much closer now, standing in front of her. She had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes, which were dark and intent on hers. His words suddenly felt much more weighted. 

“Of course, Senator.”

His gaze didn't break from hers. “What if it were for a good cause, something foolish and noble that even the Jedi couldn't disapprove of? Do you think the code could be bent, just a little?”

Her mouth went dry. “It would have to be a very good reason.”

He took another small step in, so that there was barely room between them. “Would it?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, Senator,” she rasped.

His lips twitched into a brief smile, though there was something regretful about it. “‘Yes, Senator,’” he repeated, softly. “Sometimes I wonder if you even remember my name.”

“Kylo --” she started, but he shook his head. 

“Not that one.”

“Ben.” Her voice was barely a whisper between them, and he leaned in to hear. His breath shuddered out of him in a sigh at the sound of his name from her, his eyes growing dark and heavy.

“Rey,” he breathed. She shivered. She felt his breath on her face, smelled the rich sandalwood and silk scent of him, unconsciously swaying forward to get closer. 

His lips were level with her eyes, and she found herself lingering on them, their soft fullness, the way his tongue peaked out to swipe across the bottom one. She jerked her eyes back up to his guiltily, only to find his gaze making the same flick downward. Their eyes met again.

“Ben,” she said again, not knowing if it was a warning or a plea. She felt all too conscious of how her lips formed around the word and for some reason her heart was pounding like she’d just run all the way across the city. 

Eyes intent on hers, and moving so slowly that she could hardly tell, he bent further, until she nearly went cross-eyed watching him. Her lips parted, her head tilting up to him. Even though all her years of training told her to turn around and leave, it was like the Force itself kept her rooted to her spot. 

On his desk behind him, the Senator’s comm chirped twice, and then a small blue form appeared above it. 

“Senator Amidala!” it said imperiously. “I need to talk to you about your latest budget proposal.”

The senator whipped around, his robes brushing against Rey’s legs. He strode over and snatched up the comm, glaring at the miniature politician who watched him, unimpressed. “You made your feelings quite clear on the floor today,” he snapped.

Rey slumped, gasping in air that was suddenly much cooler. Her mind raced, but the one thought that echoed above all was _“too close”._


	4. Fantasy

Ben ran through the corridors of Snoke’s fortress, Rey's weak and pale form limp in his arms. In daylight, most of the inhabitants still slept, which was the only advantage they'd gotten so far. He hadn't figured how he would get her out in the sun and to help yet, but he was determined a solution would present itself, even if he had to burn to ash to do it. He knew the secret corridors of his former master’s stronghold, but the time for subtlety had long passed. He wasn't sure he could fight off any more of Snoke's minions, who would have no idea what had happened to their leader, and still protect Rey. His choice in the throne room had been difficult enough. 

Snoke had thought he'd known exactly what he was doing, half draining Rey and presenting her to his apprentice, but Ben's choice had never been what you'd master expected. He couldn't deny the entrancing scent of her blood, but the even the thought of drinking from her, stealing any of her life away, made him ill. Logically, he knew that he could never have saved Rey and gotten them out of the throne room alone without first killing Snoke, but he couldn't help but regret the time it had taken. Even while slowly bleeding out, Rey had still managed to hold her own against the guards, long enough for him to take his opening. 

He looked down at her again and his breath caught in his throat at how pale she'd become. For as long as he'd known her, she'd always radiated light, her skin kissed by the sun. Everything he wasn't. Now, it couldn't be clearer that she was slipping further away from him by the second. He quickened his pace, wincing as his steps jolted her.

“Ben,” she groaned, and his arms tightened around her.

“It's alright,” he assured her uselessly. “I'll get you to the Resistance; they'll help you. You'll be fine.” He choked over the words.

She shook her head. “Stop. Put me down.” 

He paused but still held on to her. “Rey,” he pleaded.

“I can't --” She broke off to catch her breath. “The running makes it worse. Please.”

Reluctantly, he knelt on the floor with her in his arms. There was nowhere to put her but the stone floors and walls, so he cradled her in his lap. “Just for a minute,” he bargained, running his hand through her hair. “We can still make it.”

She leaned her head into his touch, but shook it again. “No. You know how this has to go.”

Tears swelled over his cheeks and down his face. He bit his lip, tasting the stale blood there. He must have cut it during the fight. Blood from the guards and from Snoke already coated both of them, along with fresh blood from her own wounds. He felt the press of his fangs. It would be so easy to -- 

He shook the idea away, rejecting it. “I can't. You know that, Rey, I can't do that to you, can't curse you like…”

She reached up and grabbed the front of his shirt, her grip stronger than it should have been. He grunted as she pulled him down to her. “I swear to you, Ben Solo, if you let me die out of some misguided chivalry because you think you’re saving me, I will haunt you to your grave. Do you hear me?”

He gave a huff of laughter through his tears. “I do,” he murmured. He couldn’t help his reluctance though, the feeling that he’d be stripping something from her if he went through with what she wanted. “If I do this, I can’t… There’s no going back.”

“Death has a way of sticking around as well,” she said dryly. “I know what I’m asking, Ben.”

He breathed out slowly, shakily, and nodded. “Okay. We should --” He looked around, but the hallway was just as empty of any kind of comfort as it had been before. 

“Ben,” Rey said softly, and his gaze was inevitably pulled back to hers. “I don’t have time. Now.”

“Right.” He curled his arms around her, glancing down her body. He could bite open a vein, maybe at his wrist, feed her the poison that way. His tongue swiped nervously along his lip, tracing over his fangs. The sharp taste of blood still lingering there made everything fall into place. 

He braced himself, taking a deep breath, then wrapped his arm around her waist, spreading one hand over her back, and cradled her head and neck in the other. She held her breath as he leaned over her, the air still between them just before his lips met her skin. He ducked away from his goal, leaving a lingering kiss on the corner of her mouth. Her skin was cool under his lips, reminding him of what had to be done. 

“Ben,” she whispered.

“I know,” he said, lips brushing her cheek. He bit down on his lower lip, fangs digging in until the blood dripped down onto her. She turned her head slightly until her mouth was under his and, finally, he lowered his lips to hers.

He had a moment to enjoy the kiss before his blood took hold in her. Despite their chill, her lips were soft and eager against his, pressing up as much as she could. He caressed her, thumb brushing over her cheek, and her hand smoothed over his chest where it was still wrapped in his shirt. Her tongue traced the shape of his mouth, then pulled his bloodied lip between hers and sucked. It wasn’t the most efficient way to turn someone, but it did its job quickly. She swallowed, his blood sliding down her throat, and then her body stiffened in his arms. Within seconds, she began shuddering. The infection had started to take hold. 

He lowered his forehead to hers, still feeling the blood being pulled out of him as she continued to suck at his lip. His eyes closed and tears dripped from his lashes onto her cheeks. 

Slowly, her hold on him grew weaker and weaker until it fell away completely. She lay senseless in his arms, still shaking. His arms tightened, drawing her close to his chest. 

“Rey,” he sighed, the one word saying everything he didn’t know how to.

Somewhere deep in the castle, metal rang out on stone. His head jerked up, looking around. Nothing nearby, but they couldn’t stay here long. He took stock of the hallway they’d ended up in, and calculated how best to get to the nearest rooms. Keeping Rey close to him, he stood, and took off down the hall. 

It didn’t take long for him to arrive at the door he needed. He knocked, and when an answer wasn’t immediate, he slammed his weight into the door until it broke open. The inhabitant of the room, some minor underling whose name he couldn’t be bothered to remember, woke up from his bed with a small cry. Ben slammed the door closed again, shoved the nearest piece of furniture against it, then set Rey gently down to deal with the other man. He snapped his neck before he could get out a proper cry, then frowned at the body. With a grunt, he took it and shoved it under the bed. They shouldn’t be staying long enough for it to start to smell, and Rey might be hungry when she woke. 

He lifted Rey again and brought her over to the bed. At least the man had been a neat one. He lay Rey down, pulling the blankets over her, then lay next to her and curled himself around her. In the time it had taken to find a place to rest, she’d gone from cold to burning hot, and he hissed as he passed a hand over her forehead. He rested one arm under their heads and wrapped the other over her chest, keeping her steady even as her body fought the changes taking her over. 

He buried his face in her hair and closed his eyes. All there was left to do now was wait. 


	5. Cyberpunk

A crash came from the other end of the alley, and Rey quickly slammed the cover back over the access port she’d been convincing to let her into the back door of the restaurant. She glared out into the darkness to where she could see the glow of screens from stores out in the street and waited to see if anyone revealed themselves. From the face that they hadn’t come striding down through the debris yet, guns blazing, she doubted it was any kind of enforcement droids, which meant it was likely another scavenger, possibly trying to get in on her slicing job. No one came further down the alley, but she heard the harsh breathing of some kind of sentient just out of sight from the street. 

Treading carefully so as not to disturb any of the scrap that litterd the alley, she made her way back out, eyes peeled for any movement. She froze when she caught sight of a dark shape that peeled itself away from the wall and stood shakily on two feet. With all the light coming from behind it, it was hard to tell, but it looked mostly human, all the right shapes in the right places. Taller and broader than most, but nothing too unusual. Of course, with all the things they did with droids nowadays, that didn’t mean much. 

She took another cautious step forward. The figure stopped moving. 

“Who’s there?” a deep voice called out, slightly muffled.

She didn’t answer, keeping completely still in the shadows. The figure scanned the darkness, and Rey barely breathed, hoping that whatever tech he had on him couldn't catch her. A dark mask with metallic accents glinted in the light from the gaudy store displays. It looked expensive and she cursed in her head. She couldn't see his eyes, but she felt as his gaze passed over her.

“I can see you,” he said. “I'm not in the mood for games.” 

Rey did a quick calculation, and then stepped out of the darkness. Her watcher sighed, as if in relief.

“Not one of his,” he muttered. “Just a scavenger.” He slumped back against the wall.

She bristled. She was a scavenger, but “just” nothing, especially not to someone like him. Now that she was closer, she could see his form better. Almost definitely human. His limbs had an awkward imperfection, something they didn't program into droids. He was big, taller than her, and the bodysuit he wore made it clear he didn't usually hang around this part of town. It was deceptively simple, plain black with the same silver accents as his mask, but the make was impeccable. It thinned out enough over his arms to show hints of muscle -- he wouldn't need cybernetic enhancements to put up a fight -- but gathered around his neck in a cowl. Nothing like her clothes, pieced together from scavenged parts over the years, too bulky to be even ironically fashionable. Her mask tied over her face, goggles covering her eyes. She briefly considered knocking him out just for the suit, but she'd never be able to get it off without tearing it, and between that and its custom fit for this giant of a man, she wouldn't get much for it. Still, he might still be worth her while.

“And who are you?” she snapped, crossing her arms.

“No one,” he said, then grunted and wrapped an arm around his side.

She took another step closer. “No, I'm no one,” she corrected. “You need a better disguise if you're going to try to be no one around here.”

His head turned up towards her, and she saw a crack stretching from the bottom of his mask up towards his eye, showing a strip of pale skin. She stepped towards him again even as the black of his eyepiece fixed on her. 

“Is that so,” he said, voice breathier than before. A screen flashed across the street, casting bright light across them both. Rey glanced down to where the man held his side and saw the dark red sheen of fresh blood spreading across his dark suit. 

“What happened?” she asked, speaking before she realized it. 

He curled into himself further, as if he could hide the wound and make her forget seeing it. “Lots of things. Where do you want to start, scavenger?”

She scowled. “You’re awfully sarcastic for someone on the verge of bleeding out.”

“I am not ‘bleeding out’. I’m fine.” He pushed himself further down the wall, leaving a dark smear behind him. 

“Really.” Before he could react, she darted across the space between them and got in a solid jab to his stomach. He yelped in pain then cut the sound off into a strangled groan. 

“Yes,” he said through gritted teeth. 

She rolled her eyes. “I guess gaping wounds are just the latest fashion accessory on the upside?”

“It’s not gaping. I have it under control.”

“Fine.” She turned and walked away, back to where she’d been working earlier.

“Where are you going?” he called after her. She didn’t look back. 

“Scavenging.” She got the access panel back off and was about to pick up where she left off when something thumped on the ground behind her. A quick glance told her that the stranger must have lost his ability to stand. She looked back at the panel, thinking of the ration packs she could take off with if she could just get through this door. With a disgusted sigh, she turned away and ran back up the alley to the dark figure now crumpled on the ground. 

She crouched down next to him. “Hey.” No response. She pushed him and got a short grunt. Not dead yet. 

If she had any sense left, she’d wait until he was, then take what she could from him to get a few credits. Instead, she wedged two fingers under the base of his mask, trying to feel for a pulse. Even with the crack, it came down to cover his neck, so with a growl, she wrenched at it until it slid off.

She drew a short gasp of surprise. She could barely remember the last time she'd seen another person's face, other than the digital ones that flashed across the screens. People went around barefaced in their homes, not out in the street. She wasn't even sure when she'd last seen her own reflection, and she definitely hadn't seen one like this before. It was like a droid maker had gotten a few kits mixed up and decided to make the best of it anyway. Lips too big, nose slightly off, but at the same time, it spoke to her. This was a face that had something to say.

She reached out a hand and brushed two fingers along his cheek. He shuddered slightly under the touch, his breath fanning over her palm, and turned his head into her hand. She drew it back quickly and his eyes fluttered open. They reflected the damp pavement as they glanced up at her.

“'m fine,” he slurred, and then his body went limp.

-

Kylo woke the same way he'd fallen asleep: lying on the ground with the scavenger's hand touching his face. He jerked into alertness all at once, sitting up quickly and then immediately regretting it. The wound in his side burned.

The scavenger stumbled back next to him, crouching on the ground and watching him warily. He forced himself to take a slow breath and evaluate his surroundings.

He'd been moved from the streets to some metal shack, the bare steel of the walls only barely covered by scraps of fabric. One stayed clear, entirely covered instead in tally marks. A terminal was rigged up in the corner of the space, and a few comforts indicated that whoever the scavenger was, she lived here. Instead of being on the ground as he'd first thought, he lay on a thin pad, barely enough to disguise the concrete underneath. He looked over at his supposed savior, who hadn't moved as he'd made his survey. She'd removed a few of her layers, enough for him to tell that she was tall but scrawny, clearly used to being on the streets. Her goggles were pushed up over brown eyes and brown hair poked out from her wraps. Her face looked young, the kind of young that should have been out taking the city for everything it had to offer, not scrounging in back alleys for food. But something in her face forbid pity, saying clearly that she'd take care of herself, and anyone else she needed to.She must have dragged him back here, though he couldn't imagine how. He wasn't sure he wanted to know either.

“Where -” he tried to say, but his voice cracked and broke, throat too dry for words. “Water?” he rasped.

She narrowed her eyes, but turned and pulled a worn canteen from beside the pallet. He took it eagerly and gulped down the stale liquid. Just when his throat stopped hurting, she snatched it back, glaring at him. She screwed the lid back on tightly and set it aside.

“Who are you?” she asked, in a tone that made it clear she expected an answer.

He didn't know what to say. He couldn't go back, to either of them. “It doesn't matter,” he settled on.

Her gaze bored into him, not sure whether to accept that. “Is someone going to come looking for you?” 

“I don't know.” He thought of Snoke. He was a disappointment, certainly, but the Supreme Leader wasn't someone who let things go easily. He didn't think of the people who would definitely not be coming got him. “Probably.”

She evaluated him. “Do you want them to find you?”

That was easier to answer. “No.” 

She nodded shortly. “You need to get rid of that suit and the mask.” Her gaze passed over his body, and he had the uncomfortable sensation that those honey-brown eyes saw far more than he wanted them to. His hands twitched, longing to reach for his mask. He'd always hated how little he could keep from his face. “If you weren't such a bantha, I might have something to fit you.”

He bristled. He knew he was ungainly; he didn't need some street rat commenting on it. She noticed and shrugged. “It's not like they make something your size on the rack. We don't get printed stuff down here.”

He didn't answer, settling instead for glancing over the room again. The scattered scrap carefully formed into piles that might, through some miracle, be useful along with the remnants of a ration pack told him that this was her home, such as it was. He couldn't tell exactly where they were, but it almost looked like some corner of a warehouse or an unused roof unit. He glanced at the pallet he'd been put on. Her bed. And there wasn't much else in the way of comfort, certainly nowhere else to sleep. She'd given him all she had. Guilt filled him, a not unfamiliar sensation. “Why'd you bring me here?” 

She fiddled with a set of wires she pulled from a pile near the bed. “Couldn't just leave you there,” she muttered.

He remembered the way she'd been watching him just before everything went black. Guarded, but with a gleam of opportunity. He'd fully expected her to be on him before he hit the ground, taking whatever he had left that could count as valuable and leaving his stripped corpse for someone else to deal with. “You could have,” he insisted. Waking up in her hovel had been a shock, and not a pleasant one. It meant he had to live with what had happened, with the memories. Red light, the weapon in his hand, plunging, a dry and weathered hands over his, touching his face where she had, _falling_ \--

He gasped, the pain coming back to him like a blade in his chest, just like -- He shook his head, trying to clear it for now. “You should have,” he said, eyes and throat burning. His hand clutched at his arm, remembering the feel of the weapon.

Something hit him in the shoulder, hard, and he jumped, immediately bracing himself for an attack. The wires the woman had been playing with fell to the bed next to him. He looked up and met her fierce glare.

“Sorry to disappoint,” she snapped.

He swallowed thickly. “I just didn't expect to still be here.”

She pursed her lips and eyed him speculatively. “Well, as long as you're not dead yet, you can help out.” She stood, and something told him he was meant to follow.

He struggled to his feet, hand falling to his side as his wound ached. He tried to ignore the memories that came with the pain. “Wait,” he grunted.

She looked back over her shoulder, something flickering over her face as she saw him still half crouched on the pallet. She leaned over and held out a hand awkwardly, as if unsure whether to help him or not. He ignored it and pushed himself the rest of the way up, choking down the small painful noises that pressed at the back of his mouth.

“What's your name?” he asked, voice weaker than he would have liked. 

She considered for a moment, and he knew she was thinking of lying to him, or refusing to answer. “Rey,” she said finally, and he heard the truth in the word.

He nodded. Before he could help himself, he replied. “Ben.” One truth for another.

“Ben,” she repeated, cocking her head. She nodded in return. “Okay. Come on.” She grabbed a pack and pulled her mask and wraps back over her face. He copied her, covering himself as best he could, then joined her at the door. She opened it, and together they slipped out into the cool darkness waiting for them in the streets.

**Author's Note:**

> Also on [tumblr](http://thewayofthetrashcompactor.tumblr.com/post/177214788823/also-on-ao3-rating-g-words-1458-rey-stood-over)
> 
> I'd love to hear what you think!


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